Forgotten Nostalgia
by Perry-Dice
Summary: I want to know why he leaves the flowers on the grave of someone named Soichiro Yagami. I want to know why he lingers outside the old Sakura TV station. I want to know what the ominous tombstone marked only with the letter L means." Kira Victory AU
1. Chapter 1

It was quite large for an abandoned building.

It stood on the outskirts of the city, tall and imposing and mysteriously empty. The security system had been rather advanced for its time, but the power was out so it wasn't hard for me to break in. I just smashed through a window and there it all was.

The halls were dark and hollow, my footsteps echoing through the corridors and up the staircases. It was almost melancholy. Yet the funny thing was, why wasn't anyone there?

I was alone.

Adrenaline tingles in my veins as I creep through the unused rooms. The air is stale and cold. I feel a sense of foreboding and disapproval, the oppressive air telling me that this is no longer a place for humans. Something happened here long ago and the building doesn't want me anymore.

The New World is a generally efficient place; our lord Kira doesn't like things to go to waste. So why would he let this valuable building just go unused?

In another time I'm sure I would have found squatters and criminals sleeping in these empty halls, but the times change.

If there were people still living here, I'm sure that they would have taken the furniture. It's all still here, slowly collecting dust. There's a large round desk with dead computers looming above it. There's a couch and a glass table. Someone even left a pack of cookies under one chair, now fuzzy with mold.

Who was here?

If I close my eyes I can almost feel ghosts watching me; sitting at the tables conversing, fingers skipping across the keyboard, laughing and relaxing on the couch. But now it's just me, standing in the silence and running my fingers across the tables and chairs.

Something dark is lurking in these halls, I can feel it. Some old hatred, a ghost that no one remembers. A name floating in the air that no one can hear. Something bad happened here.

I've been following my father for a month now.

He works in a big Kira factory, keeping his head down and generally doing good. He sends me to school, brings home dinner every night, and always pays our rent on time. A normal father.

But some nights he'll send me to bed then slip out of the house and skirt the streets like a nervous shadow. He knows he's breaking curfew without a pass and that worries me. So one night I decided to see where exactly he was going.

I want to know what it means. I want to know why he leaves the flowers on the grave of someone named Soichiro Yagami. I want to know why he lingers outside the old Sakura TV station. I want to know what the ominous tombstone marked only with the letter L means. Who is haunting my father?

It was last week that he came here, differing from his usual schedule. He didn't go inside, he just stood and stared up at the big empty building. Then all at once he left.

The moonbeams slip between the dusty blinds on the windows and stripe the empty rooms with pale light. I stand in front of the desk, tracing patterns on the black monitor's dirty screens.

It looks like whoever was here left in a hurry, taking only what they needed and leaving the rest. Perhaps they planned to come back. There are even papers still in the desks.

I slide them out of their manila folders and leaf through the pages. They're Old World, yet mention Kira frequently. Mostly just meaningless names and numbers, criminals who were judged so long ago everyone has forgotten their names.

That's what this place is for, I think. Forgotten things.

"What are you doing in here?" Demands a voice from behind me, harsh and sudden. I whirl around in terror.

There is a man standing behind me, a little younger than my father, in his forties. His face is washed out in the moonlight but I can see that it is thin and sharp. His hair a slightly long, shining a dull copper. It's his eyes that capture me, they are dark and calculating and strange.

We are supposed to have no fear in this New World but now I am afraid. I have no reason to fear this man yet I do. He has the eyes of all the old murderers and convicts, supposedly eradicated. He has the eyes of a madman.

"I just- I wanted to look around." The words fall out of my mouth in a rush. I was normally a perfect liar, most kids are now.

He looks suspicious. His emaciated form shifts, casting a long shadow across the room and filling the empty space.

"Curious, huh?" His mouth twists into a rather unpleasant smile. I guessed that he had probably been handsome when he was younger but now the affect was almost macabre.

"Yes." I whisper. It seemed wrong to speak so loudly here. The vacant room seems washed in pale blue, cold and lonely.

"I was curious once. But it only leads to trouble, I warn you. Tell me, how old are you?" He murmurs and moves closer to me. I start back and bump into the desk, wincing at the loud clang it makes.

"Seventeen." I breathe over the echoes that still float in the dark air. He laughs but it isn't a pleasant sound.

Why is he here? Another soul searching for answers in the ghosts? Or a wild mad rebel who still persists in his quest to destroy our lord. I've heard of those people, they live in the forests like savages and plan to retake the world. Kira kills them every time, they're mad to resist him.

"In fact I myself was seventeen when I worked here." He narrows his eyes and stares transfixed at a low chair in front of the glass table. It's like he sees someone but the chair remains untouched.

"Who worked here?" I suddenly ask, unable to contain the questions boiling inside me.

"It's far too long a story. I could never breath a word. You should go home now. The New World does not except meddling children." He snaps, pulled from his dark reverie.

My heart jumps into my throat. If he turns me in to Kira's men there's no telling what will happen to me. This was a foolish risk.

"I'm sorry, I won't come back. Please." I'm panicking a little but he just nods.

"Just go home."

"Yes mister…?" I turn and give him a doubtful glance. Kira's law dictates that we must learn the names of anyone we meet, in case we need to register it later.

"Call me… Ryuzaki." He says after a pause, then laughs.

I bolt.

My legs pound too loud down the empty stairs and I hurdle down empty halls. I squeeze back out of the window on the bottom floor and land with a thud outside on the sidewalk.

I sprint all the way back home, only pausing once to dodge one of Kira's nightly safety patrols. It's not like I oppose Kira, but running a perfect world leaves no time for the antics of upstarts like me. You keep in line, you stay out of trouble, you stay alive. I almost blew it big.

Luckily dad is still asleep when I get back and he doesn't even stir when I creep back up to my room, still panting. I am filled with the need for human company to shut out the great solitude of that abandoned building. The headquarters of the forgotten.

I won't go back there, not after someone saw me. That's a risk I don't want to take to solve this mystery, because that's what it is. I'm solving a mystery that no one wants to know. But I can't go back.

Lying in bed that night I pull the crumpled file out from under my shirt and smile.

Whatever else happens, I am going to figure this out.

Who is Soichiro Yagami? What is L? How did that building just get forgotten? And why on earth would a simple man like my father Touta Matsuda be involved?

I start reading.

_A/N: So this is a story about... well, I'm not sure. It's about the New World. It's about good and evil. But it's mostly about a protagonist. A protagonist that doesn't matter, yet does. You could call it an OC but it isn't really. The protagonist is you, or maybe me, or whoever you want. They are your very own story viewing vessel. See what I mean? I don't even know what I'm writing about! But I hope you enjoy it, a least. _


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone in our sector knows who Kira's madwoman is. She lives on my street.

All the apartments look the same now; Kira had them built that way. They stand in neat rows, plain and perfect. Like most things here. All except Kira's madwoman.

She kept her Old World house. It's beginning to crumble, the grass is long and unkempt, and she never comes out. No one has ever seen her. Rumor has it that she was an old friend of Kira's who lost her mind after the revolution and he let her stay where she was in his great mercy.

She gets more privileges than the rest of the sector. Some people complain because she never does any work for them but they are promptly reminded that she must have done some great good before or perhaps aided Kira himself in his ascension.

I walk past her house every day on the way to school. If I was bright enough I would go to a closer one but I tested into mid-level. At least it wasn't low enough for the work camps.

Mid-level kids like me have to be extra careful, we aren't burdens, but the world could certainly do without us if we act out. We don't speak in the hallways, we don't question our propaganda, and we never fail a class. You don't have to think that much either.

It was 5 minutes ago on my way back from school that I saw my father leaving the madwoman's house. I was early; our last class had been cancelled because the teacher had been eliminated that morning. Something involving stealing rations I think.

I pretended that I hadn't seen him of course, what sort of detective would I be otherwise? He was walking down the remains of her front path, glancing around nervously. When he cleared her dilapidated fence he nearly ran back up the street to our house.

I have to make a decision now. My outdoor pass expires in 15 minutes but hopefully I won't get checked if I stay out longer. Do I dare go into her house?

Luckily I have daring in spades so I find myself standing up to my knees is wilted brown grass and knocking on a chipped front door. There is a long moment of silence and I nearly run, the tall house is so intimidating. Then I hear the scrape of a bolt.

The woman who opens the door is younger than I expect, although not well preserved in any case. She has wild brown hair, streaked with grey and her eyes look tired. Her hands shake on the handle, like she's frightened but her gaze is at least steady.

And she isn't mad, I can tell. Just weary of life. Not like the man who called himself Ryuzaki.

"Yes?" She grumbles and I suddenly remember myself. I flounder for a moment, not having planned this far in advanced.

"Is my father here?" I finally ask. She shakes her head. I try again. "Have you seen him?"

"He's at home. You should be home." She turns back into the house and I become a bit desperate.

"Do you know a man called Ryuzaki?" I splutter and she whips her head around.

"Can't say that I do. Is there something else you need, child?" She asks and narrows her eyes.

"I need to… know. May I have your name?" I ask, blushing a little when I realize that I hadn't asked. She wasn't called Kira's madwoman everywhere was she?

"Sayu Yagami." She whispers as though it hurts her to remember. My mouth falls open.

"Who is Soichiro?"

The second the name is out of my mouth her eyes pop and she gasps for air and claws at the doorway. There is a cold dread and horror in her old eyes.

"I think you had better come inside." She finally manages to croak. My head is spinning. I step into the slightly musty darkness of the house. It's a mess inside, books and plates strewn over the entire kitchen table.

There's a dish on the countertop containing a sort of pie. I gulp. My father makes these, loving to get a little creative with our rations. I guess that's why he was here.

"How do you know the name Soichiro Yagami?" Sayu questions darkly, clutching my shoulders in her wasted hands. Her eyes are so piercing I find myself telling the truth.

"My father goes to visit his grave all the time. There's another one with Sachiko Yagami on it but it's newer. Are you related?" I try to keep my burning curiosity out of my voice.

"Yes." She whispers and looks away, lost in though. "He was my father. The other was my mother."

"Sorry." I shrug. I'm pretty used to people dying now. The ones born pre-Kira always get a little teary over it so I try to be respectful. "How did my father know him then?"

"They worked together. It's not important anymore, just the past. You shouldn't bother yourself with it." Sayu Yagami snaps and fidgets with the edge of her frayed blouse.

"Did they work at a big building on the edge of town?" I prod. She looks irritated and then glances at the clock.

"I don't know. You should get home soon." She turns her back to me and begins to shuffle through the mess on the table. I guess she has decided that I'm not a threat. There's nothing left but for me to go for it if I want some real answers.

"What about a man? With sort of long bronze hair and really thin? Nicely dressed but with kind of a funny look in his eye?" I pride myself on detailed descriptions, you'd be surprised how much easier to identify a few details make something.

Sayu drops the glass, which looks real, onto the floor where it shatters. She doesn't seem to notice. She turns slowly back to me, a hunted look in her eyes.

"You know too much child. You must stop this nonsense now and go home. Never think of this again, put that man out of your mind." She shoves me out of her house almost forcefully.

"But-" I start but she pushes me out of the door before I can finish.

"If you want to keep your life, stay away from Light Yagami!" Sayu Yagami slams the door.

I walk home in a daze, nearly running into a Kira patrol, I'm so distracted. This matter obviously has the Yagami family at the heart of it. I try to sort through my thoughts.

So my father worked with this Soichiro Yagami pre-Kira. He dies and shortly after the revolution so does his wife. They're daughter lives off of Kira support. There's also someone named Light Yagami.

How does the rest tie in? What happened to the Yagami's? And what in Kira's good name did Sayu Yagami witness to make her that broken woman?

The guesswork is tricky. I'm fairly sure that the abandoned headquarters was where my father and Soichiro Yagami worked. I also guess that the man I met their was Light Yagami. Sayu's brother perhaps? He looked about the right age. Or maybe her husband? I must consider all possibilities.

Yet she seemed to fear him. It seemed to point to that if Kira rewarded Sayu for deserting her possible brother, maybe my theory about Light being an anti-Kira rebel had some merit.

I needed more facts.

That night, after I lied guiltily all through dinner, I went up to my room and searched the name Light Yagami on every website I could think of.

Not a trace. The man didn't exist.

I felt cold. Was Sayu really crazy then? Or had Light been purposefully erased from the records.

I began to realize how big this story might actually be. Was I ready to find the truth?

_A/N: The game's afoot! Love for reviewers! _


	3. Chapter 3

All through school today I couldn't stop thinking about it. Questions were beating on the inside of my head and would give me no peace.

School is mostly just sitting around. We watch some educational film in class and we are assigned worksheets every night. It gets old pretty fast.

There used to be this kid in my class who would actually ask the teachers questions, 'excess interaction' I believe they called it. He would always bring in these weird unauthorized books and read them in class. The rumor was that his mother had been caught in some big conspiracy and had been eliminated.

He was judged too eventually. Kira decided that he wasn't going to change so he just dropped during math class one day. I guess it was supposed to be an example to us. I'm not sure why I still think about it.

It's not like I don't have friends though. We sit together at lunch, run by each other in gym, say hello on the street and stuff. Today at lunch everyone was discussing the big political topic on the table now.

Our goddess was due for her first baby sometime this month. Everyone loves Misa; she's the face of Kira, the loving kind mother of the New World. Not to mention that she's gorgeous. She runs several different types of charities and she's always looking out for us.

With an anonymous god it's good to have a visible goddess.

The best thing about Misa is that she always seems to find a way to do things. She needs money for a ration increase project; she has the work camps build barracks so she can sell the houses. Now the people at the work camps can live right on the job and we all get an extra can of peaches.

All of my friends are excited about the birth. Who wouldn't be? This child is going to be born as basically the most powerful person in the New World.

I nearly sprint home. I am eager, practically wiggling with anticipation. Time to start sleuthing.

I run past one of the newest posters of Misa, her face smooth and glowing while her stomach curves gracefully forward. She always looks so at peace. I hear that she was a model before the revolution, and she barely seems to have aged.

I burst through the front door of my apartment and set down my backpack. The place is sparse but at least it's clean right now. My bedroom is upstairs and my dad's is down. I occasionally wonder if I should sneak a look through his desk, there might be information.

But today I have a mission.

Last night as I read through the file I had smuggled out of the abandoned headquarters, I noticed the name Roger Ruvie being mentioned frequently. Today I am going to the library to find who he is.

The library is one of my favorite places in the world. Although the New World keeps pretty full records of things after the revolution, it's the library that files all the old stuff. Not that it hasn't been censored.

The closest library to me is a neat little building tucked into a corner. Not many people go there anymore so the librarians are pretty familiar with me. I like to do research for my school projects there because there are a wider variety of sources.

I walk into the library, showing them my pass at the door. I've used most of my street passes for this month but I think this is pretty important.

"Looking for something in particular?" An elderly librarian asks me.

"I'm just doing some research for history. Can you help me look for a Roger Ruvie?" I proclaim boldly. The librarian's eyes light up at the task. I might apply to be a librarian when I'm older, the New World doesn't need detectives really, but a library is a good place for people who like to find things.

"Let me see now. Ruvie you said?" The librarian shuffles down the aisles, peering at the tiny print and brushing her fingers over the whispery paper.

"Yeah." I affirm, beginning to flip through the old newspaper collection.

"Any idea what he did?" She raises an eyebrow in my direction. I glance down at the crumpled piece of paper in my hand.

"Maybe a business man? He's in all these financial records. I think he might have been English because it's in pounds." I bite my lip; none of these numbers make any sense to me.

After nearly half an hour of sorting through piles of financial records, my eyes have glazed over and I am ready to give up.

"Here's something." My comrade suddenly says. I look up with a start. She slams an enormous book down in front of my, stirring up a magnificent cloud of dust.

"A phone book?" I cough, holding my sleeve over my face.

"It's pretty out of date but you could try it out." She shrugs.

I open the thick tome and nearly groan at the sheer amount of people. England is a bigger country than I thought, apparently.

I also have no idea what city I am supposed to be looking for so I randomly flip through a few. Discouraged, I heave the pages over and look near the back. Wammy's House, Winchester is staring up at me; some local business from long ago, I guess. Then my eyes pop.

There's a long dull description of the Wammy's House mission and then a number.

'Ask for Roger'.

It's far too big of a stretch, a coincidence that isn't really more than dumb luck. I wouldn't even call the number if I had half a brain. But I trust my gut instinct and scribble down the sequence.

I won't use a pay-phone for it, Kira has men listening on all of them and this is a conversation I would prefer to keep under the radar.

I walk quickly down the street, cursing my house for being so far away. A few other pedestrians flash past me, moving quickly to avoid wasting their street minutes. I keep tugging my regulation uniform shirt up because I think I may be growing and it fits a little strangely now. An out-of-uniform violation right now is not what I need.

I seem to be seeing my house only in flashes these days, bursting in and out whenever I want to. That's what this detective business will do to you, I guess. I'm loving every second of it. It's like a real adventure now.

I dial in the number after scrabbling around for a bit trying to find the code for an out of country call. The low electronic ring buzzes in my ear while I try to think of what I will ask if someone answers. Someone picks up. My breath catches.

"One moment…" A tired female voice says in English from the receiver. "Alright, I'm hiding your call now. You can talk."

"Um, yes, I'm looking for Roger?" I hesitantly pronounce.

"I'm sorry, he's just died. It's been mad here, I'm answering all the calls and trying to keep everything together." The woman sounds older, her voice keeps cracking.

"Roger Ruvie is dead?" I prompt.

"Yes yes, last week I found him cold. We'd been expecting it for a while now but-" She trails off and I hear and muffled sob. "I- I don't know what to do! Kira's going to find us any day now and we're running out of food. I think we may… we may- we're going to have to send off the children. We're finished!" She wails.

"The children? Where?" I am utterly confused. They're hiding from Kira?

"No one wants a little orphan these days but we'll do the best we can. I will not turn them over to Kira's care, I will not let them do it." The woman sounds a bit hysterical. "Oh I apologize, you probably need to report something to me don't you? I've been getting calls from Japan all day telling me all these things to remember. I don't know how Roger did it!"

"Yes um, right then. I'm just… an old friend of Rogers calling to check up. Sorry to hear about him. I should go." I slam down the phone.

What was that woman saying? Hiding my call, Kira finding them, sending away children? What was Wammy's House doing?

I suddenly begin to feel scared, as a rather delayed reaction, so I go to the warm brightly lit kitchen and make dinner for my father. I need a night to just be normal. It is best to sleep on what I have learned, wait until I calm down to draw conclusions.

If I want adventure, it is beginning to look like I am in the right place.

_A/N: The plot thickens! The game's afoot! Detective-y stuff! Can I haz reviews? _


	4. Chapter 4

It's my recreation day from school and I plan to use it.

No new developments have taken place even since I called Wammy's House. I find that when you hit a dead end like this, the best thing to do is start looking at something else. Something I haven't connected yet.

Every now and then my father walks out to a tiny cemetery hidden behind some warehouses and offices. It's not the main public cemetery where they buried Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami; it's an older one.

Before the revolution everyone got buried when they died. Of course this wasn't a practical way to deal with death so we cremate bodies under Kira. But even our God did not dare to disturb the old graves. Perhaps he fears the older Gods who still reign over the corpses, perhaps he fears the families will rise up against it, or perhaps he simply fears the dead.

In this little cemetery the people were called Christian, an old religion. They're aren't that many buried there, some crumbling scattered stones looming suddenly out of dry brown grass. In the back of the graveyard there is a larger tomb.

The only thing written on it is the letter L.

I'm going there today.

I walk down the streets, looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact. Surreptitiously I slip between two worn grey buildings into the long brown grass. It swishes gently against my legs as I creep through the stones. I'm not really nervous, no one ever comes here.

Then I hear a voice. I quickly slip behind a tall crumbling stone with the name 'Alice' still visible. There is a woman kneeling in front of the L grave.

I stand completely still, trying not to breath to loudly and watch her. She's beautiful, soft auburn hair and gentle brown eyes. She must be foreign and she has long graceful fingers. There is a slash of dark red across her mouth, like she is bleeding berries. I'm not entirely sure that's legal.

Suddenly she speaks.

"Right so, I'm not exactly sure how to do this. I feel kind of stupid talking to a grave but here goes. I never really knew you, L, but I'm not sure anyone did. So I've brought you the closest thing, your successors. I thought it would be best if they were with you." Her voice is shaking and her eyes are bright.

She pulls out of her bag three little boxes that I can barley make out the letters on. Emblazoned on the top are an 'M', an 'N', and another smaller 'm'.

"We kept them at Wammy's for a while but now…" Her voice breaks. "Now we aren't even sure there will be a Wammy's House!"

My heart is pounding. She is from Wammy's.

"So here they are. Mello, Matt and Near. They died fighting Kira, just like you did. Mello even tried to help Near some in the end, and Matt was always by his side, of course." She places the boxes in front of the grave. "They were just kids, L, so young. I miss them every day, L. Nothing is the same now."

I feel a bit self-conscious crouching behind a tomb while spying on a rather sensitive moment. The woman pulls herself together after a second and I shift uncomfortably.

"At least they put Quillish next to you. Quillish Wammy was one of the greatest men on earth, I'm glad you have someone here." She bows her head and seems lost in thought.

I see that my chance has arrived so I stand up creakily.

"Who is Quillish Wammy?" I call out to her.

She jumps and scrambles to her feet. For a moment she stares at me like a trapped animal, her eyes wildly scanning me. I try to ask her again but before I can speak she bolts. In a flash she hurdles over a few stones and scampers away.

I sigh in frustration and wander over to the grave. Cautiously I pick up one of the little boxes, capital M. I open it slowly then gasp.

It's full of ashes. Lying on top of them is a tiny golden cross and a piece of chocolate. I resist eating the chocolate, understanding that this is a bit immoral.

Smaller 'm' is also full of ashes with a small brightly colored square on top. I try to figure out what it is, turning the small computer-like object in my hands. Faintly I remember diagrams in history of these, some banned technology called a video game. I quickly lay this box back down.

The 'N' is chilling. This box is only partly full of ashes, this one was smaller. There is a tiny toy man made of blocks resting on top.

I begin to frighten myself with thoughts of rising dead children and turn to leave when something else catches my eye.

There's something white lying enveloped in the long grass. I move towards it and gently pick it up. It's a notebook filled with thick white paper.

I flip through the pages and a jolt runs trough my stomach. Sketches in charcoal and pen. The faint and distant faces of children long forgotten. Familiar sounding names sometimes accompany the faces. Mello, Matt, Near.

Mello used to have a crocked smile and straight blonde hair. Matt used to have braces and chapped lips. Near was tiny but had large dark eyes. But they're dead. I begin to feel sick. I want to put the notebook down; I want to forget what I have seen. But it's burned into my eyes and the L grave is looming over me, watching.

Then one page manages to snap my brain back into detective mode. An old man with a peaceful smile and the name 'Wammy' written next to him. The sketch is faded and smudged but I lock my eyes on to his every feature.

He is the next step. Quillish Wammy is the next clue.

I turn back to the L grave, still dark and silent. I thank it in my head and straighten the little boxes resting beneath it now.

With the sketchbook under my arm I slip back down the clean streets feeling dirty. Or seeing the dirt I never looked at before.

When I get home my father is still at work so I lie down and have a nap. It doesn't last long and my dreams are filled with ghostly children and women with berries bleeding from there mouths and a great terrifying grave with the neglected grass twisting around it like a serpent.

I wake up sweating as my father shuts the door and starts coming up the stairs. I hastily stash the sketchbook and wipe my forehead.

My father looks tired as usual, his lank black hair tumbling forward onto one eye. His smile has some life in it, though.

"Have a nice day?" He asks rummaging through the pantry for something to eat.

"Yeah." I lie. "I just lay around mostly." He snorts with laughter.

"Lazy as always. How's school going?" The question is off hand and careless.

"Alright. We have career picks coming up at the end of this year but I think I know where I'm going." I respond.

"Office work?" He raises an eyebrow.

"No, I'm not that bright. Kids like me get factory jobs like you, or maybe shipping." I laugh. My father shakes his head.

"The Matsuda's aren't made for jobs like that. We have a family tradition of messing things up. Did you put in your library request yet?" He looks hopeful. I nod.

"We'll hope for the best then." He concludes and turns on the stove.

I walk quickly back up the stairs and lie down on my bed. Until my father calls me, I examine each of the careful sketches slowly fading in the notebook. It makes me sad that no one will remember these people; they'll just fade away.

After school the day after I go to the L grave, I return to the library. This time I do not ask the librarians because I don't want to make myself suspicious.

My head feels a lot clearer after a good nights sleep. I must admit that I became mildly hysterical yesterday and began to think irrational thoughts.

Kira probably had a good reason for killing those children. I cannot question Kira, he is justice, he is God. He doesn't make mistakes.

Honestly, my imagination gets away from me sometimes and I think I'm solving the greatest conspiracy in the free world. Then I remember; this is old news. It's the past. It doesn't matter anymore. I just want to know.

I riffle through the collection of old newspapers the library has. I know what I'm looking for; Quillish Wammy's tombstone had a very clear date printed on it. It's in the pre-revolution section of papers.

These ones are particularly ragged. Many of the stories are censored or classified; they've been cut out and disposed off. Kira left some of the tragic stories in, murders and burglaries and criminals messing up the world, just so we would know why we needed him. The obituaries are pretty intact, however.

I find him right where I expected him. Quillish Wammy, dead November 5th at age 71. I settle onto the floor, squinting in the dim light, and begin to read the short article.

It says he died of a heart attack but, I remind myself, many people have heart attacks at that age that weren't judged. This man's life seems contradictory to that. He was world renowned as a great inventor and philanthropist. He even started his own orphanage.

It was called Wammy's House.

It was all tying in. I would solve it soon, I knew it. I could feel the mounting presence of something, something that would make it all come clear. That final derisive clue was just over the horizon.

And I wanted to know. This secret wasn't so dark. There had to be a justification. I wanted to know. Didn't I?

_A/N: Dramatic chapter is dramatic. bam symbolism. Enjoying? _


	5. Chapter 5

At school the next day I cannot seem to keep my mind from wandering. The routine is simple, my legs carry me to my classes lost in thought and I sit dreamily staring ahead. At lunch my friends discuss something and I nod my head noncommittally. I walk home and nearly collide with another pedestrian hurrying along.

The empty house around me seems to close in as I lie on my bed, perusing the contents of my research. I'm beginning to feel irritated, what am I supposed to do now? I suppose I should wait but as my father says, patience is not a virtue of the Matsuda's.

The tree outside of my window is playing a game with the shadows on my walls. I want to go outside and walk around. I want to do something. It's like an ache in my stomach, urging me forward. I want to know.

I know I should stay here. The pale afternoon light is mild enough for me to take a nap. I know I need more sleep because this sneaking around has been cutting out of homework time. I never really could get used to waking up early for our morning prayers.

This morning's worship ceremony was particularly interesting. A friend of mine has become a priest's assistant. He was working today, I saw him turn on the screens for the High Priest Mikami's speech. He hasn't gotten to perform the apple ceremony yet however.

I roll to my feet and pad softly down the stairs. I'm not really sneaking out; I just need to find this Linda to return her sketchpad. Just a favor for a friend. Nothing wrong. I tell myself this as I softly turn the door handle.

I'm not sure why I feel the need to be so quiet, no one's even home. Then it hits me. No one is home.

My father has a desk.

He doesn't really need a desk, not for work, not for study. But he has a great wooden desk. It's in his room, crammed into the corner and never used. He carries the key around his neck, but before he slips out at night he always goes to the desk. There has to be something in the desk.

I feel slightly guilty as I creep stealthily into his room. The desk is smooth and dark, I run my hands across its scarred surface. I feel like if I open the drawer it will just explode.

Swallowing hard, I fumble in my pockets. It's a strange skill in the New World, why would there be any need to know how to pick a lock? Some taught me once about 5 years ago. He was pretty dumb, headed for the work camps, but he thought he could get ahead by stealing what wasn't his.

Of course he was eliminated. Just another example. Another lesson. I don't pick locks often.

I breathe deeply, close my eyes, and jiggle the twisted mettle rim of one of our rations cartons in the key hole. I try to make the little scrap of wire into part of my arm, just an extension of myself. I try to imagine the slide of metal within the desk.

There is a soft click. I open my eyes.

When I open the drawer I am slightly disappointed. There isn't much in here. A battered old planner, a belt rolled up carefully with a smooth metal pad for the buckle, an old ID card with the name Taro Matsui on it, and most interestingly an Eighteen magazine with the Goddess of the New World on the cover.

With mild interest I skim through the once glossy pages of Misa Amane's interview. To my surprise I find her answers vapid and inane. She seems so intelligent and assured now, it's hard to imagine her saying these things. I suppose she was younger then and a lot of people had trouble being themselves in the rotten pre-revolution society.

I leave the belt and ID, disinterested, and instead pick up the planner. The events are mundane, dentist appointments and meetings. I grow disgusted. So much for my father's great secrets in these drawers.

But wait. He's written something in large excited script. 'Dinner with Yagamis'. So Touta Matsuda used to have dinner with the Yagamis. Then I read below it.

The kanji are scribbled and nearly illegible. The character for moon. 'Moon comes home'. What on earth does that mean?

There's an old calendar at the beginning of each month that, to my joy, has the lunar cycles on it. I check the dinner date. I heart sinks. The moon is ¾ full. There is absolutely nothing that was remarkable about that moon.

I put the planner back and close the drawer tightly, hoping my father will never notice. The lock clicks quietly back into place.

Half-hearted I drag myself back up to my room. The moon coming home, what a ridiculous sentence. Then something clicks in my brain, as quietly as the lock. It must be a name. Another Yagami.

I dash the rest of the way up the stairs and whip open my allotted laptop. It's getting old and slow, but I have to make it last until next year when I will be issued another one for work.

I search the name 'Moon Yagami'. There he is. The page I find on him lists an almost never-ending stream of achievements, from perfect scores to tennis matches. A note under his name is highlighted.

Moon is pronounced Light. I have inadvertently found Light Yagami.

I'm almost hypnotized. The page has been edited since the revolution, censored and cleaned up. The picture is gone. The prodigy has no face. Another date has been edited.

Imagine the feeling of your ribs turning to ice and slowly closing in on your heart. It begins to happen when I read the date.

'Born: February 28, 1989. Death: January 28, 2013'.

But he's not dead! I've seen him! He walks, he laughs, he's not dead! I realize that I'm shaking.

"I'm home!" Calls my father faintly from below but it barely registers in my brain.

Light Yagami is dead? No, that's preposterous. There must be another explanation. Perhaps he faked his death. So he could lead his rebel group or whatever it is that he does. Yes, that must be it. He faked it to escape from Kira. Because you can't catch a dead man.

Then how am I supposed to?

My father bursts through the door.

"I've been calling you for the past minute! What's going on? Are you alright?" He frowns as he takes in the scene. "You look a little pale. Are you getting sick?"

"No, I'm fine." I mumble, shutting the laptop quickly. "Just doing homework."

Then my father's face grows hard. As imposing as I've ever seen him, he points stiffly at my bed. I feel the sinking sensation of horror.

I have forgotten to put away the magazine.

"How did you…?" He doesn't even finish his sentence, just stares at me. His hair is in his eyes as usual but rather than harmless and gentle he looks nearly deranged.

"I-" But no answers comes to me. No one else really understands how serious my father can really be. "I just wanted to know. I wanted to know why you went out at night, why you kept that useless desk, why you visit Sayu Yagami."

"You mustn't know. It's too dangerous and it must be forgotten. I am a fool for holding onto it. It will kill me someday. Kira can kill you for this." His voice is dark and bitter.

"Why would Kira kill you? You're not hurting anyone, you-" I start but he cuts me off.

"You're just a child! You don't understand! I had a life before Kira. Please forget this. You're just a child." The anger has drained out of him and he just looks tired. "I don't want you to throw away your life for something stupid like this that can never be changed."

I keep my eyes downcast and nodded. For the rest of the night I am docile and obedient, hardly speaking. My father returns to his usual state of whimsical apathy and by the next morning he looks like he had put the incident behind him.

As if I would give up so easily.

Sure I kept a low profile for the next few days. I didn't go out and never set a toe out of line. It was a true trial of my patience, avoiding the itching longing to go out and search for more answers like the ones I had hidden under my bed.

I'm not sure why I suddenly felt the need to rebel but it seemed like my determination amped itself up the moment he told me never to do it.

So tonight I will walk through town, pretending I have somewhere to go and scanning the crowd for a young woman with a slash of red across her mouth.

I will find you, Linda.

_A/N: How are you guys?_


	6. Chapter 6

I sit in the rain, back pressed against the coarse stone of the L grave. Water is running down my face, dripping from my ears, and slowly soaking through the cloth on my back.

The day is grey, the sky seems low and dark, the rain gathers in murky puddles. It makes the city look dingy and tired rather than the proud beacon of justice we've come to know.

I'm waiting for Linda. She hasn't been back yet and the little boxes she left are still there, now soaked with rain.

I've been coming here everyday for a while. It's kind of peaceful, just sitting in the tall grass feeling utterly hidden. Solitude is a frequent pleasure for me but being totally invisible is a rare treat.

Linda has to come back. She must realize that she's left the sketchbook. Surely she'll come back. I have to find her somehow.

Raindrops keep hitting me in the eyes so I close them. My ears tune themselves to the gentle patter of rain and the faint murmur of insects. One crawls slowly up my knee and I feel the tiny legs through the fabric of my uniform.

"Shit." I suddenly hear and I jerk myself back into reality. It's an unfamiliar word to me but the tone suggests horror. I twist myself around and I can see a sliver of the woman standing on the other side of the L grave.

Linda wears a uniform like anyone else, a factory worker of some sort, but her dark lips set her slightly apart. Right now she looks dejected, hair hanging in wet clumps and her clothes sticking to her as she moves. Her fists are balled up in frustration.

"Linda?" I whisper, trying not to scare her. She jumps nonetheless.

"Who's there?" She calls sharply and I stand up slowly.

"I have your sketch book. Please don't run away again. I want to give it back." I speak slowly, putting on my most harmless face. Linda glances around nervously but she stays still.

"What are you doing here? Have you been following me?" She edges closer to me on the other side of the grave, looking torn.

"No I just like to sit out here. I saw you that day and didn't want to disturb you. I'm sorry to eavesdrop." I bow remorsefully. She's speaking Japanese now so it's easier for me to understand. "I was curious. Do you know whose grave this is?"

Linda seems to relax a little. Some of the suspicion leaves her eyes.

"L's." She says, her voice clipped. I try not to sound exasperated.

"Yes it says that. I've been trying to figure out who it was but I've had no luck. I can't find Mello, Matt or Near either. All I could find was Quillish Wammy. Were they all orphans?" I ask.

The rain beats down and Linda is silent. Her eyes filled with tears the moment I mentioned the three boy's names but I try to ignore it. She bites one of her blood red lips and stares unseeing over my head. Her fingers twist and she seems poised on the brink of some great decision. Then she opens her mouth and words begin to flood out.

"I know I can't trust you but what the hell does it matter anymore. I'll be gone any day now. They'll find me soon. I knew what I was doing when I came here but also I'm not sure I really want to keep living in this world. The others all talk about resistance and glorious overthrows but I know it's over. It ended the day that Kira overthrew L, his greatest foe. It was a foolish quest that the other's undertook."

I don't really understand what she's saying but try to remember it for later.

"What quest?" I prod and she continues.

"Nobody remembers anymore and I wanted them too. All these little reminders were haunting me. Mello, Matt and Near were the children I grew up with back at the orphanage. Then they all died trying to stop Kira and I was left alone. But I can't fight Kira; I was never as smart as them. That's why I'm sure I'll be killed here. Wammy's can sneak me into the country with ease but it takes a master to get out before they find you. It looks like you found me. Planning to turn me in? Going to work in the name of justice?"

Her voice is rising hysterically. I back away, beginning to feel nervous myself. Something in Linda looks like it has snapped.

"I thought Wammy's House was an orphanage." I mumbled and she begins to laugh.

"Oh yes it was an orphanage like no other. Mr. Wammy wanted to train an army of geniuses for when his jewel L died. Well he raised his army and then died with his prodigy. So much for his dreams. Kira's the only thing now and he's going to kill me. I'm going to die, I'm going to be murdered!" She's screaming now. "It's all my fault! I'm going to die! Those stupid pictures! It's all my fault!"

"Take it back!" I call urgently, desperate to leave. I hold out the sketch book in shaking hands, but Linda ignores it and stretches her face up to the clouds, letting the rain stream down her face as she screams.

Raindrops splatter the old pencil drawings and they begin to run together, the dead faces slowly erased until they are all uniform blobs of grey. Linda's dark lips appear to wash off with the rain because the color is running down her chin now, like blood or berries.

"It's my fault! We're all going to die!" She cries again and again. I throw the sketchbook in her face and in one glorious moment the pages explode in a fan, faces swimming in the rain. It lands face down in the soaking tendrils of grass.

Then all at once the screaming stops. Linda looks shocked, bewildered, and frightened. Her voice has been taken.

I can see the pale color of her real lips in patches as they open into a silent scream. Her eyes bulge and her hand spasms up towards her chest. Her knees buckle and the grass swallows her up.

There is a long moment of choking silence. I stumble to her side and crouch down next to her. Her eyes stare up at me, terrified for one last moment and then she fades.

Linda is just a body twisted on the ground, her heart caught in the grip of God.

I've seen judgments before, but not like this. My hands tremble as I reach out to touch her wet face.

The realization finally hits me. I'm being stupid. My father was right. This is dangerous. This is not for me. I could be next. I have to get out of here.

"Who's this?" Intones a coldly familiar voice behind me. Slowly, as if in a dream I turn around.

There is a man leaning on the L grave with a narrow face and dull bronze hair. His eyes are bright and his razor sharp features are slick with rain. Light Yagami picks up the sketchbook on the ground.

"I- I- heard screaming. I thought someone was hurt. I think she- she was judged." I stutter, conjuring the lie naturally.

Light leafs through the drawings, a sneer curling around his lips.

"You again. I'm beginning to wonder, who exactly are you?" He squints through the rain, his narrowed eyes almost feline. Then a lethal grin stretches his hollow cheeks into a smile. "What is your father's name?"

"Matsuda. Touta Matsuda." I answer dutifully. Light gives a dry, almost laugh.

"Run home to your father then. It seems like Kira's hungry for murder out here."

I listen to Light Yagami. I run.

I don't even realize that I have run past my house until I am a few blocks further down the street. I'm panting and my chest is heaving. To my horror, my eyes are burning and an uncomfortable lump has wedged itself in my throat. I am shaking all over and for a moment I just stand on the street and gasp. A few of the passers by spare me concerned glances but most continue on their way, looking down and walking fast.

I finally pull myself together a bit and walk home. Kira is supposed to make you feel safe, we are supposed to be protected from harm and the terror that used to sweep the streets. But I do not fear criminals like I fear Kira now.

I get the feeling that Light wanted to show me this. A woman can die in front of me and he can stare me down and say that Kira will do the same thing to me if I oppose him. I suppose that's how Light acquires his rebellious followers. If he is a rebel, that is.

Detective work sets my panic at ease somewhat so when I get home I sit down to organize my information once more. It keeps me from dwelling on less pleasant topics.

So Wammy's House is a former orphanage where students were raised to become the next L. L opposes Kira, so Kira kills him. Mello, Matt, and Near replace L but Kira kills them as well.

Wammy's House continues to rebel against Kira to this day. Linda sneaks into the country to achieve a personal peace or vendetta. She is killed. Wammy's House will most likely be destroyed soon.

But there is still a missing link. How do the Yagamis and my father tie into this? Sayu the madwoman who must have aided Kira offers no feasible connection to Wammy's House. Light Yagami the rebel is a better bet.

Could he be from Wammy's House? Or working with them possibly? What is he doing sneaking around my father's secret places? Humoring forgotten nostalgia or recruiting?

My head aches. I want to go to sleep but I can't. There is homework to be done. The lump of icy fear that has been building in my stomach keeps me awake and nervous.

I wish my father were home. I feel like the abandoned headquarters, the nameless grave, the faded sketches.

I feel alone.

_A/N: Poor clueless protagonist. Isn't it a fun perspective to work with? I hope you all pick up my random little references to the series, because I love them dearly! Thank you flattering reviewers! _


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning a car pulls up in front of our house.

To explain this fully I shall go back and begin with my waking up. I tumbled out of bed and meandered downstairs for a quick breakfast before Morning Prayer. My father was in the kitchen, with something sizzling in a pan.

"Good morning." I said quietly, shame still strangling me from saying more. He grunted in response, things had been a little strange between us after the desk incident.

He brought the pan over to the table after a few minutes and placed the sausage patties he had created from our meat rations onto a plate. I stared at them hungrily, but my stomach was still churning with guilt. I knew I would have to tell him the truth but it was hard to start.

"Dad, I'm really sorry about your desk." I decided was the best way to start. "It was really stupid and my curiosity got the better of me. I always mess things up like this."

"You and me both." He snorted, smiling a little. I felt encouraged.

"I just really wanted to know. I don't understand why I can't, or why you hide all these things from me. I just got really mad and…" I trailed off, not sure how to continue. My father sighs and rubs his forehead, looking resigned.

"I guess I have to explain it now. I thought it would be better for you just not to know but I can see that I messed up again." I leaned foreword in anticipation despite myself. "I use to be a police officer. I was working against Kira so when he came to power I thought I was going to die. All of my colleagues were killed but I begged and pleaded for my life. He spared me in his great mercy, but I'm always going to be under his watch. He cannot trust me."

My jaw actually dropped. My father was just a factory worker, not an ex-cop who used to fight our God. My father smiled a little at my obvious shock.

Then the horrific realization hit me. All of this sneaking around and potentially breaking the law was even more dangerous than I had thought. I had to tell him. I was in deep trouble.

A car pulls up outside of our house.

I may see a car around once a month. We are expected to walk wherever we need to go. Pre-revolution, everyone had a car and some people even had two. They would live very far away from the place they worked and they would have to drive long distances everyday.

Of course this was stupid and people nearly destroyed the environment. So now the only people who use cars are the ones who really need them, ambulances or police cars or priest caravans.

So the car pulling up is a bit of a shock.

My father and I leap to our feet. We peer out of the little window by the door, desperate to catch a glance of the person in the car. The door slowly opens. The figure of a man slowly uncurls itself from the vehicle.

He is instantly recognizable; tall, thin, dressed in a long black coat with long black hair whipping around his gaunt face. His usually burning eyes are concealed with his gleaming glasses.

Teru Mikami, high priest of Kira, hand of God, and most feared man in the New World is standing on our doorstep.

My father goes very pale as Mikami walks up our front steps. He fumbles in his pockets for a moment then turns to me, pressing something cold and metal into my hand. It is another key to the desk.

"Open it." He presses his mouth against my ear and hisses.

I dash into his bedroom, my hands shaking so hard I can barely fit the key into the lock. I empty the drawer I had previously opened and then rip open the other untested drawer. There is a pile of paper, bound in folders.

Scooping the contents of the desk into my arms and locking in carefully I hear the doorbell. I scramble up the stairs into my room and stash loot under my mattress with the rest of my hidden bounty. I hear my father answer the door.

"A pleasure, to what do I owe the honor…" I hear my father saying, his voice unnaturally high and strained. Breathing hard and trying to appear normal I walk slowly back down the stairs.

Mikami stands silently in our dining room, looking too large and out of place. He turns to face my father and says only one thing.

"I'm sorry Matsuda. We tried but you've let us down."

A funny look comes into my father's eyes for just a second. It isn't fear or anger, more like resignation. Or maybe regret.

Then I watch again. It's the same process I've seen all my life. Only his is quieter and easier than Linda in the graveyard. His arms twitch and twist, a slow almost graceful spasm runs through his trunk, his eyes widen and his neck stretches until he falls with a final sounding thud in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Mikami turns to face me, glasses flashing but his face expressionless.

"This is your warning. This is your lesson. Don't let yourself go playing detective again. It fell on your father this time, it will be you next. Praise Kira." He turns on his heel and leaves. Teru Mikami walks briskly down our front path and ducks back into his car, checking his watch.

The car pulls away from our house.

The next week is a blur. My father's body is carted off after a few hours, a man comes to tell me that I can apply for a guardian at the specified location, I am allowed one day's vacation from school, I lie in my fathers bed, I cry a lot.

Somehow I end up living in the place I least expected. Sayu Yagami puts in a request for me to come live with her and it is naturally accepted. My meager possessions are shifted down the street and I find myself occupying a little room in the upstairs of Sayu Yagami's house.

It's the only clean looking room in the place. I take it upon myself to clean her entire house for her, cook her meals, and organize her pantry. I need to be busy so I can stop myself from thinking.

It's obvious I'm upset. But there is something else, a feeling I've never encountered before. It takes hold of me every night. My stomach feels like it's on fire, my fists shake and my teeth clench. Of course I'm upset.

But it is the need for revenge that finally drives me to start looking through what I pulled from the desk. I don't care if Teru Mikami kills me. I'll kill him first.

In the end, I wear the belt, I carry the ID, I read the whole Eighteen magazine, and I keep the planner under my bed. Then it is time to read the papers from the other drawer.

The paper is typed, hastily by the look because a few words are nearly unrecognizable in spelling. The paper is yellowing, curling as though it had at one time been very damp.

'Task Force Log: Shuichi Aizawa.

Tomorrow we have arranged to meet the detective known as N at the yellow box warehouse. I felt compelled to leave this log behind because there is a high possibility that we will not leave the warehouse alive and a record of our investigation is necessary.

After beginning our investigation under the guidance of the detective known as L we quickly confirmed that Kira was in Japan. Many men left the original task force for fear of their lives when we discovered that Kira could kill a man knowing only his name and face. A second Kira appeared shortly after.

The killings stopped for a short period after two suspects were imprisoned but began again and were linked to the Yotsuba company. With information gathered by Touta Matsuda, Kyosuke Higuchi was apprehended. He died immediately after his capture.

We confiscated a notebook proven to be the murder weapon. Implausibly, it seemed that this death note was used by the Shinigami to claim human lives. The rules within this notebook cleared our two suspects.

Sayu Yagami was kidnapped by the mafia under the leadership of a man called Mello. She was traded for the notebook. The notebook was recaptured after many of N's organization ,the SPK, were killed. Soichiro Yagami was killed during the mission.

Kira named a spokesperson, Kiyome Takada, and L managed to make contact with her. Mello kidnapped her shortly after although they were both killed by Kira.

This leaves today's events, however they unfold. We have been instructed by N to bring the notebook currently in our possession.

If we do not survive today, the reader of this message should seek out Light Yagami unless he dies with us.

I would add, on a personal note, that the reader should find Eriko Aizawa and tell her I love her.'

Clipped to the back of the report is a pair of blurry old photographs with addresses scratched quickly onto the back.

The first picture shows a pretty woman and a young girl smiling faintly in front of a park. The second shows a row of smartly dressed men with bright idealistic smiles. I check the names on the back.

A broad serious man called Mogi, an older strained man referred to as the elusive Soichiro Yagami, Aizawa himself looking a little scruffy but full of fight, a shorter man with sallow skin but a clear gaze called Ide, my father beaming at the camera looking heart-wrenchingly like me, and finally on the end a graceful young man with an elegant smirk. Light Yagami. The answer

I lie back on the cold bed and hold the file to my chest. I have felt so much I have used it all up. Now I'm numb, empty, and able to finally become the detective I wanted to be.

Let's lay out the facts.

A task force of men working to catch Kira under L meets at the now abandoned head quarters. Light Yagami and his father are among them. L, the leader of the team, has a legion of genius orphans at a place called Wammy's House ready to replace him if he dies.

Sayu Yagami is kidnapped by one of these successors. The other one, N, works with the task force on the case. They meet at the yellow box warehouse. All of them are supposedly killed by Kira. Somehow my father and Light Yagami are spared.

Now Sayu lives off of support from Kira and fears her brother. My father is murdered by Kira's right hand man. Light Yagami skulks around familiar sights after apparently faking his death. Wammy's House is on the verge of destruction by Kira and Linda brings the ashes to Mello, Matt and Near to L's grave.

But which one of the men in this picture is L?

Then I get the crazy idea. Something in my brain clicks and I sit bolt upright suddenly.

Sayu hates her brother for something. Light fakes his death. He waits by a grave for a girl he somehow knew was coming.

Light Yagami is L?

Is the L grave an empty grave? Does Light still work for Wammy's House, protecting his surviving successors? He certainly seemed smart enough to be L. It all makes an alarming amount of sense.

It all seems so unreal.

Sayu sneezes loudly downstairs, jolting me from my reverie. The room suddenly feels very cold but that knot of anger is still blazing inside of me. It's getting late in the day and I think about making some dinner in a minute. But I feel pinned to the bed beneath the weight of this new theory.

I know now what I will do. I will go to the Yellow Box warehouse tomorrow, hope to see Light Yagami again, and hope to see Teru Mikami as soon as possible so I can kill him.

I'm not giving up now. I have to know.

_A/N: I fear, dear children, that our tale is coming to a close. Tune in for a final installment of this thrilling mystery next time. How do you feel about protagonist by this point? Just curious. _


	8. Chapter 8

The streets disgust me now. People hurry along, that heavy ever-present terror bending their backs without them even noticing. The air smells like smoke and dirt, the factories nearby pumping poison into the air. Don't worry; Kira will probably kill you first, so why think about it?

It's a cold day; the air stings my lungs as I walk. I take my time, actually looking around for once. Finally seeing the world around me. I have come to a startling conclusion, bathed in my newfound bitterness; this world is rotten.

I visited the library yesterday, discretely looking up the location of the Yellow Box Warehouse. Just as I suspected, it's still there. All the disused buildings in this city seem to be developing a theme.

I clutch my directions in my hand as I walk, shivers running up and down my body. They are only from the cold. I seem to have lost my ability to fear.

The first snowflake tumbles down at my feet. It sits perfect on the pavement for a moment but then dissolves into dirty water. My eyes begin to sting as I pause to observe it. People cast nervous glances at me, averting their eyes purposefully.

Soon the snow begins to fall in earnest. It mixes into a sludge on the streets and turns grey. The people turn grey with it. I experience a great longing to see their mouths slashed with berry red.

The warehouse is a long walk from Sayu's house. I am nearly entirely numb when I reach it. The warehouse is surrounded by factories, with a big work camp in sight. The slow, almost inaudible, grind of machines echoes faintly through the frigid air.

The door of the Yellow Box Warehouse is nearly rusted shut. I brace myself against the wall and pry the squealing sheet of metal back. A shaft of light spills into the warehouse until I manage to shut the door again.

The interior of the building is grey and rusty. All of the boxes have long since gone and the only evidence of human presence is a large fan that spins mournfully in the wind.

"You didn't learn did you?" Says the soft voice of Light Yagami behind me. I am not surprised this time. I turn to face him.

He doesn't look good today. His face is pale and pinched, bruise-like shadows under his eyes. It's harder to see the handsome boy from the photograph.

"Light Yagami." I narrow my eyes at him, squaring my shoulders are staring him down. "I want to know."

He flinches almost imperceptibly at the name.

"Why?" He asks. "It won't make anything better."

"Curiosity." I shrug. "I've found out so much already. A house full of genius orphans, a task force led by L trying to catch Kira, how they connect. Why does your sister hate you Light? Why do the records say you're dead? How did you know where Linda was?"

"Do you have a guess?" He answers, eyes giving away nothing. My throat is dry but I swallow painfully and square my shoulders.

"You're L, aren't you?"

There is moment where he just stares at me in something like amazement. Then this smile spreads across his face and a high laugh builds in his throat. His eyes are so wide now, shining and sparkling.

I'm so stupid. Thinking I was this callous invincible savior. I'm terrified.

"That's right. You're a bright kid, even if the tests don't say it." His voice is strange now. It's casual and pleasant. I shuffle nervously.

Then there is an awful squealing sound and I see a sliver of sunlight begin to puddle across the room. Someone else is coming into the warehouse.

The painstaking drag of the old door proves to be a worthy distraction. I look frantically around the room for some other exit, or somewhere to hide. Light's hand closes on my wrist. He gazes down at me for a moment then pulls me quickly to the wall.

He slides a well-oiled and silent door, nearly invisible, open and shoves me through. It must have been how he snuck up on me earlier. I open it just a crack to peer through, trying to fathom what is going on and what has just happened.

Whoever has just entering is now closing the door; the room is dimming once more. Light stands illuminated in a puddle of gold spilling down from where the fan is. The blades cast irregular shadows across his features but for a moment I recognize Light Yagami from the old photographs.

The man who walks up to him and kneels at his feet is Teru Mikami. For a moment I nearly loose my head, an overpowering urge to leap from my hiding place and strangle him overwhelms me.

"My god." Mikami breathes and I jump.

God?

Mikami places a shivering kiss on Light's shoes. I nearly groan. Of course he laughed when I asked if he was L. He probably was after he murdered the real L. What better disguise?

More importantly, how long have I been conversing casually with the god of the New World and he hasn't killed me? Probably just wanted to figure out how I was learning this stuff, ready to cover up the last traces.

How the hell did I miss it? Light Yagami is L. Light Yagami is Sayu's brother. Light Yagami didn't save his own father. Light Yagami is Kira. Light Yagami is all of that.

I am so dead.

"How is Misa?" Mikami asks, standing up.

"She's doing well, the boy is healthy." Light says, his voice detached.

"Any more information on that Matsuda brat?" Mikami sneers and rage boils inside me again. Light's eyes flick briefly towards me. I realize that he will probably kill me now. I don't want to die.

"No. All quiet. Children are often obedient once you are firm with them."

My jaw drops.

"Good news then." Mikami's smile is tight, a little disappointed. He must have really wanted to stamp out the whole Matsuda family.

"Mikami why did you call me here just to talk about trifles? It would have been easier to just call." Light looks bored.

"A matter close to my heart. Why can't we just kill the young Matsuda? We've proved again and again that the children will act up and call us unjust if we eliminate their parents. I don't understand why you refuse to kill this one preemptively. It's another threat to us you're leaving free." Mikami's sneer is returning.

"Don't question your god Teru Mikami." Light's eyes are hard. "I don't pride myself on murdering children."

"I suppose that is how you will justify letting all those Wammy children escape by delaying your strike again and again." Mikami narrows his eyes arrogantly.

"Don't make me do it Mikami." Light's hands strokes his watch gently. I am puzzled.

Mikami grins, a sickening sight. His voice is sweet and kind.

"Oh Light, you're to late."

For the first time Light looks utterly mystified. This is obviously a completely unexpected development.

"What do you-? How-? I'm you're god Mikami!" He splutters.

"I wrote down your name hours ago, you have about 5 minutes if my calculations are correct. I didn't want to do this Light. But it's your own fault." Mikami shrugs. Light's eyes pop.

"My fault? What do-?"

"You clawed your way to the top, you did an admirable job. You saved the world. It would take a lot out of any man. You're getting older Light. You're growing soft. You have doubts, you're losing faith. I can see it. I wouldn't have done it before today. But now I have a new God." Mikami pats Light on the arm.

"You don't mean, you-" Light sounds desperate.

"Your son, Light. A fresh new God for a New World. I will keep control until he is ready. I will teach him how to eliminate his doubts. This youngest generation will be wonderful, Light. No doubts or fears from their old lives or their parents. Everything will be perfect." Mikami looks so happy it's frightening.

"You're insane." Gasps Light. "You can't! I came so far, not now. I don't know."

He is nearly incoherent. Mikami's face is etched with pity. He turns, long black coat spiraling around him, and begins to leave.

"Goodbye Light. Remember this is only what is just."

The door shrieks one last time.

I burst out of the hidden door. At that exact moment Light's hand suddenly goes to his chest. He crumples. I can hear him muttering to himself.

"Damn L, Ryuzaki, I am justice! Matsuda you idiot, you… I'm the only one who can do it I- I killed a… I might have to kill Sayu… Goodbye Light he says, damn it, goodbye Naomi Misoura. Rem, the deal… Where's Misa? Where's Takada?"

I hesitantly touch his hand. He's not long for this world and he's obviously snapped. He looks up at me and recognition dawns on his face, pulling him from his thoughts. Pulling him back out of the grip of the past for a minute.

"In the watch…" He murmurs to me. His shaking fingers pull quickly on the little contraption and a new compartment pops open. There's nothing in it put a slip of paper.

"Damn it Ryuk," He whispers faintly looking at some invisible person. "Stop laughing." He gasps.

"You were bored too."

When life slips from Kira's body, I feel an inexplicable urge to cry.

The God of the New World was one mystery I could never solve.

Suddenly I realize where I am.

I am alone in a warehouse with the dead body of Kira. His crazed former servant is out to kill me. All I have to protect myself with is a watch.

I am so doomed.

To my surprise I do not die. It does not make the next few weeks any less surreal.

Mikami proclaimed Light's son the new God. He assumed control of all of the functions of Kira until then. I cowered in Sayu Yagami's spare room, waiting to be killed.

Then a secret plot became suddenly apparent when assassins from an organization known as Wammy's House took down Teru Mikami while he was making a speech. The globe was thrown into utter turmoil with rebels and cults springing up everywhere. A panic I suppose you would call it.

I ended up in a pretty strange place, however, with a little help.

I ended up in the passenger seat of a sleek black van. A grim faced Sayu was at the wheel as we drove further and further out of town. In the back of the van a broken shell of a woman weeps steadily. The former goddess Misa Amane looks older in person. In her arms she clutches a sleeping infant. His eyes are a deep golden brown.

Yet strangest of all sits right next to me. Or rather floats.

He calls himself Ryuk the Shinigami. He has told me the entire story but I'm not entirely sure I believe it. I'm going to tell it, however, to anyone I meet.

We've piled emergency supplies into the back but we aren't sure what we'll end up needing. We don't exactly know where we're escaping to. I'm not really sure what the world will end up like.

The sun is setting. Misa's sobs have quieted and now she sits silently, stroking the baby. Sayu's face is impassive but she looks as close to happy as I've ever seen her. I flip lazily through my Eighteen magazine.

The sun is about to disappear below the horizon. I have no idea where I am or where I am going. Something has ended and I don't know what is going to come next.

There is no need to worry or be afraid. It will all turn out okay. Things will get better. Something new is coming. We are driving into the future.

I smile and hear Ryuk begin to laugh beside me. Trees surround the van now. We are going into the unknown.

And I want to know.


End file.
